I've always wanted a Hobbit home. I think it has something to do with the round doors. I prefer round things, curvy things. They meander gently, without the sharpness of angles.
Knowing my fondness, my daughter made me a tiny Hobbit hill with a minusucle Hobbit house.
Isn't that so sweet? I'll completely overlook the fact that she made this whilst she was supposed to be engrossed in schoolwork. Ahem.
Really, though, who can be mad at her for long? She is such a sweet lass. And her left eyebrow always rises when she laughs. Just like her father.
He has very curly hair and promised she would too. He swore she'd have a head full of delicious baby curls.
Imagine my surprise when the midwife handed me a nearly-bald baby girl. But my husband promised me...and I've been bringing that up for fourteen years.
Yet, the poor child still had nothing but straight hair.
Then, suddenly, these springy spirals came from nowhere. I still can't believe it and I can't stop making them go boing-boing.
What an obnoxious mother I am!
But, honestly, could you restrain yourself around such angelic ringlets?
It took quite a while, but my husband did indeed keep his promise and gave me a beautiful, curly-tressed daughter.
But I supplied the freckles.
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